Breathe: A Novel of Colorado (38 page)

For Odessa was soon to leave this place for a ranch, high and
wide, sheltered by the steep Sangre de Cristos Mountains to her
west. Damp to her East, wounds to her West ... Sam's poem came to
mind and she wondered how long it would be until they explored
the valley, tried to find what he'd left behind. Or would such a search
merely leave them open to attack again? She glanced up to Bryce
again, thinking she never wanted to risk losing this curious painterrancher again; not if she could help it.

Bryce greeted an acquaintance and led her off to the walled edge
of the deck, to look out upon the Glen. It was cool outside, but they
would remain outside until dark, when they would proceed into the
ballroom upstairs in the castle for dinner and then dancing.

"You are quiet," he said, looking out beside her, then down at her.

"I am deep in thought," she returned.

"May I ask about what?"

"About your ranch."

"Our ranch."

"Our ranch and more. We've spoken at length about my father
and his approval of our union," she said in a whisper, "but what of
your family? Their approval of me?"

"It matters not. My choice of a bride is up to me. As long as I
continue to breed and raise horses for them here in the West, and
send them East for sale, I am fulfilling my end of the bargain."

"But you long to see the sea again, to live upon her shore. Can
you really stay here in Colorado forever?"

He turned slightly toward her and for a moment Odessa expected
him to lean down and kiss her. But he refrained. "Odessa, I glimpse
the ocean every time I look into your eyes. And we both know that our health, our very lives, depend on us remaining in a land where
we can breathe. We've found renewed health, renewed vigor, and
love ... I am a satisfied man."

She smiled up at him, in wonder at this miracle of love, weaving
its way between them. "And I am a satisfied woman."

"That is good, my love, because soon, it will be public knowledge
that you are my bride-to-be."

"Let's not wait long," she said suddenly.

"Make that my eager bride," he amended, a wry grin lifting one
eyebrow.

She blushed, could feel the heat of it upon her cheeks. "It's only
that ... the consumption ... then those men ..."

"Death's shadow has made you hunger for life's light?"

She smiled. "Who is the writer and who is the artist?"

"We are of like mind, sweetheart. We shall marry as soon as your
father arrives and I can get the house ready for you. We've already
begun."

"So ... July. We'll wed in a month." Odessa looked away as the
memory of the mountain attack again recaptured her mind, as it had
frequently since the event.

Bryce seemed to sense this. "You don't need to be afraid, Odessa.
Married or not, I'm here to keep you safe."

Her eyes slid out toward the Glen.

"Odessa?"

"I don't want you to fret, Bryce."

"Tell me."

"Dominic told me the sheriff killed the third man. Shot him in
the back." She shuddered.

"Dominic should not have burdened you with such a story," he
said.

"It isn't merely a story. And somehow, I can't help but think," she
paused to glance about them and lower her voice, "that it is somehow
tied to Sam. What he's left us."

Bryce returned her stare. "So ... you believe the sheriff is behind
the attack? Really? Why would he do such a thing?"

"Greed? Power? I don't know, Bryce. I only know I don't trust
him."

"That could be the sister in you speaking, Odessa. Because the
sheriff overstepped his bounds with Moira, jailed your brother ..."

"Yes. I admit, you might be right." Odessa stepped forward and
scanned the crowd now milling about the Palmers' castle deck.

Her eyes finally landed upon Reid, who stood at the wall, arms
akimbo, supporting himself as he stared down upon them. He gave
her a small nod, a smile, but Odessa turned without returning a look
in kind. "Or you might be wrong." She looked to Bryce, who seeing
her expression, searched the deck and found the sheriff. "There is
something wrong with that man, Bryce. Something deeply wrong."

Reid Bannock stared down at Odessa and Bryce, in animated
conversation among the trees. Never had he seen Odessa look lovelier,
but she did not look upon him with favor. She stared at him with
indignation, judgment. "She knows," he said lowly to his compatriot
who emerged then, from among the trees.

"Knows what?"

"She's putting it together somehow. There's just something in her eyes that tells me she knows." He turned and leaned against the
wall, searching the crowd for Odessas sister, the beauty in russet red.
There she was. A picture. A lady worthy of portraiture. It burned
still, her spurning, her abrupt departure. But part of him was all the
more enticed. A hard-won woman was worthy...

"If you're right, we need Odessa St. Clair gone."

Reid considered her again. "What if O'Toole's map is gone, lost
in the river?"

"Then you will have to force her to tell you what she knows,
prior to some unfortunate accident."

"Pity to find the cure and then meet another death head-on."

"Pity," the man agreed in a mutter, then moved away, blending
into the crowd beyond them.

Reid looked again to Odessa, and then Bryce. It would be more
difficult to get to her with a fiance nearby. And Moira would be so
deeply grieved over her death. If they were to ever reconcile, he'd
hate to see her in mourning black for a year.... Perhaps the map had
somehow survived. Was it on the woman even now? Did she carry it
in her bodice? Surely she hadn't left it behind in the cottage.

Another man moved to stand beside him. "Go to the St. Clair
cottage and search every inch for the map, anything from O'Toole."

"Done. May I have a glass of Palmer's champagne before I go?"

"Please," Reid said, eyeing the general across the porch, still feeling the slow burn of his betrayal. "Have two. But don't miss our map
if it's there."

"And if it's not?"

"Then," he said, sliding a grin toward the man, "we'll just have to
search Odessa St. Clair herself."

Moira walked up to Odessa, who was standing in the middle of the
cottage floor, looking ill at ease. "Are you well, Sissy?"

"Yes, I-"

"Can you unbutton me?"

"What?"

"The buttons-will you help me?"

"Oh, yes."

Moira could feel her sister's fingers upon her back, but she
stopped there. "Honestly, Dess. What is it? Are you in such a dreamy
state over your engagement that you cannot even move?"

Odessa said nothing and moved over to a picture-the one Bryce
had painted for her of the ship upon a vast sea-hanging crookedly
on the wall. Frowning, she straightened it. Then she turned to a small
table beside the settee and straightened the tablecloth.

"It's a bit late for housework, isn't it?" Moira asked.

"Someone's been here."

"What?"

"Someone's been here."

"The door was locked, Dess. It's highly unlikely ..."

Odessa leveled her eyes at Moira and then strode over to her.
"Come," she whispered, and ushered her out the door, where Bryce and
Dominic stood on the porch, talking. Both men looked their way.

"Someone's been in the cottage," Odessa said.

Bryce was immediately on the move, with Dominic right behind
him. Together, they moved from the parlor and into one bedroom,
then the next, and finally the kitchen. They returned to the porch
and Dominic shook his head. "No one here now."

Odessa let out a long breath, and Moira realized she had been
holding her breath too. "I'm so relieved."

They returned to the parlor and the four stood in a circle.

"Why do you think someone has been here, Odessa?" Bryce
asked.

"The painting, it was off-center. The tablecloth, too."

"We could've brushed by either on our way to the Glen," Moira
said.

But Odessa was shaking her head. "No. I mean, right. It could've
happened that way. But it's more a sense that someone else has been
here. Smell." She lifted her nose and sniffed the air. The others did
the same.

"No one but our fragrant brother," Moira teased.

He smiled and reached out as if to grab her and choke her, but
Moira ducked, laughing.

"Someone else has been here," Odessa said, staring at Bryce.

"All right. Someone else has been here," he returned. "Not likely
that they're coming back, with you home now. Anything missing?"

Odessa turned and rushed to her room. Fearing for her jewelry,
Moira rushed to her room as well. Thankfully, all was in place as she
left it. She returned to the parlor just as Odessa did, smoothing her
hair. "Everything as expected," she said softly.

"Good, good."

"Together we have a small fortune in Mother's jewels," Moira
said. "Surely any intruder would've taken them, right?" She reached
out to wrap an arm around Odessas waist. "Right?"

"Right," her sister returned, after an odd pause.

Dominic stepped beside Bryce outside. He liked his future brother-in-law
immensely. He liked how he treated Odessa, treasured her really. He
liked how he interacted with others-always warm, respectful. After
these last couple of months, he had never asked Dominic why he chose
to fight in the ring. He just accepted it.

"Think it's in her head?" Dominic asked him.

"No. I think someone was here, Nic."

Dominic frowned. "Why?"

Bryce glanced over his shoulder and then up and down the
street, as if he could see in the dark. "If anything happens to me
and Odessa, get to the authorities in Denver and insist they investigate. You cannot trust anyone here in the Springs. Tell them to
begin with the death records at the sanatorium, the DeChants and
O'Toole, and see what ties they can make to mine claims among
those deceased."

"Mine claims."

"Yes, mine claims."

"I'm not liking the sound of this, Bryce. Is this what led those
men to chase Odessa and Helen down?"

"We think so."

Dominic thought on that a moment. "Do I need you here
tonight?"

"I don't think so. They won't attack you here in the middle of
town."

"This from a consumptive rancher who is about to wed my sister
and take her a hundred miles from any town."

Bryce returned his grim look then and swung up into his horse's
saddle. "I'll be back in the morning, first thing. Keep one eye open
tonight, will you?"

Nic said, "Probably both."